Afterlife
by LeFox
Summary: Chapter 8 up! RomeroxAlbel. Albel dies in his fight against Romero, and rather than face oblivion, he submits to Romero's control... !Currently on hiatus.!
1. A Prologue

**Disclaimer:**

**Author's Note:** Why Romero and Albel? Because it's sexy as hell, and better than Albel and Fayt - Albel was way out of Fayt's league. If anyone, Fayt should have been with Cliff. It's not that I don't like Fayt, I just can't see him with Albel. Him or Cliff. Or any other main character, for that matter, Nel included. Yes, all of you obsessive AlbelxNel-Fayt-Cliff fans, please go away. There's none of that here. You'll never see that in a LeFox fic. Ever. For those of you with an open mind, I LOVE YOU!

**Warnings:**

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel.

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter One: A Prologue

---

"I... can't lose," Albel choked, enraged. Blood flowed over his lips as he spoke, and his knees shook. He refused to fall. He refused to lose. Not to this arrogant bastard, at any rate. And yet... here he was, bleeding all over, weaker than he'd ever been in his entire life, _dying_... and his opponent seemed untouched. Every wound Albel had inflicted had sealed itself over and healed within seconds, and not a drop of blood had been spilled.

"I _can't_ lose!" he yelled, falling against the nearest wall. "And... I can't die... not... like this," he snarled through clenched teeth, glaring up at Romero through furious red eyes. "_Damn you_!" he yelled finally, making one last deperate lunge for the being. His father's sword went cleanly through Romero's chest, but the King of the Dead didn't even flinch... instead, he simply shoved Albel almost gently to the ground.

"...You're strong," he said (or was it speaking at all? His lips never moved, nor did his face...), standing over his broken opponent. "You fought and defeated my servants without trouble. You dared to raise your sword against me. It's arrogance that drives you, that much is certain... and your strength is unquestionable, as well. But as I said... you are no match for me." Albel struggled to speak, but the blood in his mouth choked and silenced him. Romero knelt over him, his silvery hair brushing against his face. "I asked you once before," he whispered almost intimately, a white-gloved hand on the side of Albel's face. "Become my servant. I would hate to lose you to oblivion, Albel Nox... it would be a waste of your power, your skill... hurry, now, make your choice."

The man didn't move, staring at the creature above him. Romero wasn't human. He'd known it all along, true, but... it only just hit home that this thing, whatever it was, _was not human_. Something about the face, the unchanging face, gave it away... This was a creature from Hell. Maybe it was the eyes... they were piercing, cold, dead, and yet... warm, somehow. They were the only animated feature on Romero's face. Albel found himself staring at those eyes... and unable to struggle.

Blood was filling his lungs. Darkness was filling his eyes.

"Choose," Romero said, without the slightest hit of demanding. "Choose to serve me, or choose oblivion. You needn't say a word..." he placed a finger on Albel's bloodied lips as the man attempted to speak. "Make your choice with your soul. Abandon this body, it's dying." The hand slipped down Albel's chest, resting heavily over his slowly-beating heart.

_Dying_... Albel thought, closing his eyes. _Dying. Abandon this body, it's dying. ...Become your servant? Become your SERVANT! I would never..._ but what other choice did he have? Oblivion... _Oblivion. And then what? Nothing? For all eternity? How boring. Fine, then. I'll serve you. But on my own terms..._

"Very well." Romero stood then, standing beside Albel. "I'll see you... on the other side."

**Author's Note:** Short and sweet, but then again, it _is_ the introduction.


	2. A Mask

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Star Ocean, Quantestorie would have a bigger part (MUCH bigger. Love that guy.), Gonnella would appear without makeup at least once, Evia would put Aqua up for adoption, Lias would kill something (preferably Sophia. Or Aqua.) with his giant hammer, Sophia's head would explode, Maria would move faster, Dion wouldn't die, Luther wouldn't be the bad guy, Fayt would probably die, Albel would wear his P3 or P4 outfits at all times, and Romero would abduct Albel for a hot makeout scene halfway through the game. ...So, no, I don't own it.

**Author's Note: **I'm sick... T-T -snifflecough- -blows nose-

_Psychodog:_ Hey, Psychodog? YOU'RE AWESOME. -hug- I think I have another loyal reviewer! Yay! ...Because all of my other dear loyal reviewers have vanished, leaving me all alone... T-T  
_Pyroclastic Flow:_ I know! I was looking for some RomeroxAlbel fics on here (and on the web, in general), and when I couldn't find any, I just thought, "Well, hell. _I'll_ write one, then." Oh, and... Fangirling is _always_ allowed. -wink-  
_Casse:_ Continue, I will. -nod-  
_Kodamy:_ Ha! Thanks! I'm glad you like it.  
_Raven_: Thank you! I was never one for AlbelxNel, myself (mostly because I'm a diehard shounen-ai fan), but I _can _see how it'd be possible (unlike AlbelxFayt.). And I try to keep the characters IC, but if they slip a little, just let me know.  
_PhyrricVictories:_ Stressing me out? Naaaaah. -cough_yes_cough-

**Warnings:** Mild, very brief yaoi; vampirism (yes, I choose to assume Romero has some slight vampiric tendencies. Is he a vampire? No. Does he drink blood from time to time? In this fic, yes.)

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel.

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Two: A Mask

---

It was... cold. Albel opened his eyes, blinking a little - it was dark, too.

He was lying on a remarkably comfortable bed, a bed he knew almost immediately wasn't his. A large room unfolded around him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing the vaulted ceiling, shining floor, and broad windows... it was dark outside, but Albel could hear the battering of rain on the windows. There was a figure standing before one of the windows, revealed when lightning struck just outside these windows. No one had to tell him that this was Romero, nor did anyone need to tell him that this was Romero's room... it had a regal, almost frightening feel to it, a dark sort of aura.

"You're awake," Romero turned, his odd red-orange eyes all but glowing in the shadows. "Good evening."

"Quiet, maggot," Albel snapped automatically, wondering whether or not his new 'master' would punish him for being rude. No reprimand came, however, and Romero turned back to the window.

"You should mind your tongue," he said after a moment. "It could get you into trouble. I'm not always so lenient."

Smirking, Albel went back to examining the room. "...I always expected Hell to be a bit different,"

Romero didn't turn away from the window, staring out without expression. "Fire," he said softly, "And torture."

"You _did_ say 'It's time for you to _burn_ in eternal_ despair_,'" Albel reminded him sarcastically. "I have yet to see any burning. Or despair, for that matter." Romero didn't respond.

He seemed to be a breathing shadow, almost... standing there in the occasional blinding flash of light, then vanishing again into the dark when the light retreated. His profile was commanding and powerful... and yet, at the same time, he seemed gentle and almost fragile. When he spoke, his voice was airy, but controlled. The delicate whisp of light around his silvery head gave the impression that he may very well be an angel; the chilly and unchanging expression on his face let the world see that he very clearly wasn't. His hands were no longer hidden by the gloves, and revealed themselves to be rather beautiful - long, graceful fingers, each tipped with a perfect, almost glassy nail. He wore a long, rather plain black silk robe, contrasting sharply against his pale, almost grey skin. Albel couldn't help arching an eyebrow in approval - just by appearance, Romero was more of a king than that Arzei had ever been.

"...Do you _want_ torture?" the demon asked.Albel blinked. What had they been discussing? Ah, right...

"Don't ask stupid questions, you fool," he smirked. "Of course not." Romero looked over at him, but didn't turn completely from the window. "But I don't want to serve another weakling, either."

"You're the fool, Albel Nox," he whispered, the eyes piercing into his soul. "I assure you, I'm no weakling. If you need me to prove this..." He vanished on the spot, appearing beside Albel on the bed. "I can." His hand latched onto Albel's throat tightly, just above his metal collar.

The swordsman gasped for breath, struggling against Romero's hand. The hand was like stone, however, and didn't budge. If anything, it clenched even tighter around his neck, threatening to snap it. Albel fought for breath, clawing at the being's arm, digging the metal fingers into the arm, the hand; scratching desperately with his other hand. Romero didn't so much as blink, tightening his grip on the man's throat. "Don't fight, Albel," Romero murmured. "I wouldn't ever hurt you now, you're mine..."

Finally out of air, Albel made one last furious swipe with his claw, catching the side of Romero's face. Something flew away from the face before he blacked out.

—

Albel found himself in, of all things, a field. Tall, incredibly green grass flowed all around him, speckled with small white flowers. They gave off a heavenly scent, surrounding him in an intoxicating warmth. The field itself was rectangular, once a bit of farmland, now cut off from the rest of the land by bands of forest on all sides. A few lone trees were scattered across the length of the field, offering a little shade. The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, no clouds in sight. It was truly a perfect spring day...

...And yet, something was wrong.

Albel recognized this field, and the memories that came along with it. He'd seen it in nightmares and memories far too many times.

This was where he and his father had sat the night before the failed Accession of the Flame ceremony, the two of them discussing the future. Albel would fight beside his father, he would be he best warrior ever... but the next day, everything fell apart. It went up in flames, just like his arm, just like his father...

—

He screamed, opening his eyes to reveal, once again, Romero's bedroom. But this time, he wasn't alone on the bed; Romero's arms were around him, pinning him gently against the King's chest. Aside from a half-hearted struggle, Albel didn't even bother to fight... where had that gotten him before? Romero was stronger. Romero had beaten him not once, but twice, and Albel was sick of being humiliated... He dropped his head heavily against the being's chest, sighing.

"I would never harm you," Romero was saying, untwisting the bindings in Albel's hair. "Not now, not now that you belong to me." The black-and-blond hair spilled over Albel's shoulders and arms, kinked slightly from being tied back for so long. The King of the Dead stroked it almost lovingly, sighing passionately as his hand brushed over Albel's neck, shoulder, arm... The swordsman's muscles tensed - what, exactly, was going on here? Being held was one thing. He could tolerate that. But being... _touched_ like this, that was another matter entirely. The line was crossed when Romero began attempting to remove his shirt, however.

"Stop," Albel hissed, glaring up at the being with pure hatred. "Stop it _now._" Romero's eyes glittered mischievously, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"Why are you afraid, Albel...?" he asked softly, just barely above a whisper. "And what makes you think you can command me? You forget..." He ripped the shirt off completely, and leaned closer, his lips grazing Albel's. "...I'm your master now."

The red eyes widened, and Albel commanded himself to struggle. Bite the demon's lip, spit in his face, swear, kick and scream like a child, _something_... but nothing came. In fact, he found himself quivering in Romero's arms, his body aching and begging the being's lips to come just a bit closer... or better yet, his tongue. When neither came, Albel slipped his own tongue up, licking Romero's soft lips. Romero responded quickly and easily, nipping playfully at the man's lips and sliding a hand down Albel's side. Before the man could do anything to stop him, Romero had torn away his lower garment, leaving him quite exposed.

...Not that Albel minded.

He tipped his head back a bit more, and allowed the demon to remove the heavy metal collar around his neck. It fell to the floor with a loud crash, as Romero's mouth traced its way down to Albel's throat. "You... belong... to me," he repeated slowly, between kisses.

"Yes..." Albel replied, though everything inside him demanded that he say otherwise.

The next sensation was the most unexpected thing Albel had ever experienced in his lifetime. Romero bit his throat, licking up the blood that spilled from the wound. There was no pain at all, just an exquisite dizziness and an indescribable pleasure as, drop by drop, his blood was drained from his body. Albel moaned softly through the ecstasy, struggling to press himself closer to Romero's body. The demon drew back, his lips red, his eyes glazed, and then...

Romero left.

Albel found himself, quite suddenly, sitting alone and naked on Romero's bed. He wrapped the covers around himself, swearing loudly at himself, cursing the demon. A powerful wave of disgust washed over him, and he instantly hated himself for being so weak. He'd given in to temptation, he had wanted, more than anything... _damn_ that Romero! He'd known all along that Albel would...

Disgusted and disappointed in himself, he collapsed into the pillows. Then, something caught his eye. At the foot of the bed, something pale clashed against the dark sheets. He sat up, reaching forward. His hand closed on the object, and he examined it carefully... then realized, with a start, that it was Romero's face, minus the eyes. It had been a mask! No wonder the face had been so unchanging, no wonder the lips had never moved... in fact, come to think of it, Romero's expression had only changed since Albel had awakened... and shortly before that, Albel had struck the demon's face.

Albel placed the mask on the pillow beside him and lied down, tucked under the silk sheets.

**Author's Note:** Mrow, go Romero! -waves a ROMEROxALBEL flag-


	3. Another Master

**Author's Note:**You know, there's just something awesome about opening my webmail, and finding that I'm getting reviews again... I might have to start checking it every day now... I love you guys...

_Pyroclastic Flow_: Yes, the reviews gave me a nice kick in the rear, that's for sure. -nod- ...Hey, gimme back my flag! -snatches it back- I'll get Evia to make you one. xD ...By the way, I took a quick look out of curiosity at your profile, and I was wondering... might you be the same Gala I saw on several other RomeroxAlbel-related (read: mentioned once or twice) sites?

_Psychodog_: Hee! I'm surprised by how many non-yaoi fans actually read my fics... o-o; 'Tis quite flattering, if you ask me. Anyway, on another topic, I can't stand AlbelxFayt. Just... **_NO_**. Some are okay, but on the whole, I just can't see Albel ever loving Fayt. For a while, I could, but then I saw Romero...

_FoxFury_: It's obvious, hm? I figured it would be - it's a fun pairing...

**Warnings:** shounen-ai

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel, implied FolstarxRomero

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Three: Another Master

---

"...Explain yourself."

Romero looked up from his throne - a hideous thing, made entirely of human bones - at his creator. Folstar, the God of Death. It was the first time he had appeared to Romero in over a century; not that Romero minded this. He loved his creator with all his heart... but, whenever Folstar decided to pay a visit, it usually meant he had done something to displease him. In this case, it involved, of course, Romero's decision to keep Albel as a servant. Folstar's narrow, glowing eyes fixed on him in such a severe and penetrative way that he shrunk back in the throne. The God of Death was his only real fear; the only thing he had ever really _had_ to be afraid of. But at the same time, he adored this devine being...

"Surely you know of his talent," Romero said, clearing his throat. "I simply could not allow such skill to go to waste-" Folstar moved toward him abruptly, grabbing him by the collar of his robe.

"You _lie. _You _dare_ to lie to me!" he hissed. "Talent? Skill? What use is this to you? What use is _he_ to you? Romero," his voice softened, and he released the King's collar. Smiling gently, he smoothed Romero's white hair with one hand, tipping the demon's pale, somewhat frightened face up with the other. "...You know how proud I am of the way you handle your own matters. You know I would never disapprove of you without due cause..."

Romero sighed, closing his eyes. "...I do know, Master."

"Then why do you test me so? What is your true purpose for this man?" he asked tenderly, resting a hand on the side of Romero's face. Romero didn't speak. He leaned against Folstar's cold hand, eyes still closed. He was a part of this being, easily created, and easily destroyed... and yet, Folstar, this icily beautiful and powerful creature, had never harmed him... and never would. He was sure of that.

"Romero," Folstar murmured, stroking the demon's lips with his thumb. "When I created you, you swore an oath of loyalty to me. You have never disobeyed me... rarely angered me... never sought to rebel against me..."

"...If you desire it, Master, I will cast him out." Romero whispered. He would never go against Folstar. Never. "My loyalty to you is absolute..."

"Have I left you alone too long?" The god knelt before Romero, resting his head on the demon's knees. "Have you, perhaps, grown lonely here...? Are the servants I create for you not to your liking...?"

Romero looked up sharply, distressed at the sight of his master, kneeling to _him._ "Master," he exclaimed, reaching forward boldly to hold Folstar's face between his hands. "Master, please, don't blame yourself for my decision to keep Nox with me. Blame my own recklessness, blame his attractiveness, blame anything... but I beg of you, don't place the blame on yourself... I love you, Master, I worship you... nothing you could ever do would ever, _ever_ change this. Loneliness means nothing to me. The servants you allowed me are excellent..."

"...And yet... this man, this Albel Nox, is far better than any of them, correct?" Folstar seemed to be thinking. "You proved this only moments ago in your room."

"You witnessed that, then," Romero sighed. "I had no intention of hiding it from you, of course... but forgive me - I never intended to tell you, myself." Folstar nodded, to Romero's immediate relief. This showed that his creator was not angry with him - if anything, he was merely disappointed. The god fell silent for several long moments, his head resting on Romero's knees, stroking Romero's legs beneath the robe.

He finally looked up slowly, his hands moving slowly up Romero's legs. "...You need this," he said tranquilly. Several more minutes passed, before... "Very well, then. Keep Albel with you; you require someone who can keep you sharp - mute servants won't do anymore. Albel enjoys a good argument, from what I've seen of him; he resents authority; he is disloyal except to those who can control him. And he is in your thrall, Romero, he knows you're stronger than he is. He hates you for it, but in time, he may come to respect you. Keep him by your side. Make him loyal to you, and only you..."

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

"Just don't make me... _regret_ this decision, Romero."

—

Romero walked quietly into his room, slightly surprised that Albel was still on his bed. His long, tangled two-tone hair was draped around him, twisted and caught around his arms, framing his face in dark waves. The sheets were wrapped around him. He had tossed and turned in his sleep, and had kicked off several of the sheets already... though it seemed as if he had finally found a restful spot; he was even smiling in his sleep. Or, rather, smirking. His claw of an arm was thrown across his chest, while the other was tucked against his side. And beside him, on the pillow...

Ah, so that was where his mask had gone... he walked over to the bed, picking up the lost mask.

"...You bastard." He looked up. Albel was awake, watching him through sleep-clouded red eyes. "You seduce me, then walk away?" Long, black eyelashes fluttered over those eyes, and the eyebrows furrowed in an attempt at looking angry. The look succeeded in making Albel resemble a sleepy child, roused from their midday nap.

How innocent he looked... and how frigid he was inside. Romero smiled sweetly. "You want me to finish what I started," he guessed, stepping to Albel's side of the bed. He dropped the mask on the nightstand. Albel glared almost childishly, pouting sleepily as he sat up. He had to struggle with the sheets for a brief moment - they were wrapped too tightly around him. He finally settled on carelessly tearing them with one of his acute claws. Romero arched an eyebrow at this. Destroying his belongings? Hm. Albel clearly didn't realize he was a servant just yet...

"You should always follow through when you start something," Albel snapped. "That's why we lost the war with Aquaria, if you ask me. The king refused to follow through with it after Vox died." Romero honestly couldn't see what that had to do with anything... hadn't the war ended in a truce? ...But of course that would have been a loss in Albel's eyes. And he _would_ find some way to speak negatively of Vox...

"...I would hate to disappoint you," Romero smiled, letting his robe slip over his shoulders and chest, coming to rest at his waist. Several abstract, swirling tattoos covered his chest, and for a moment, Albel wondered whether these might be runes. A closer examination proved that they were simply intricate designs, no more, no less. Romero leaned over him, kissing him roughly. When he finally drew back, he whispered hungrily, "This time, I promise I won't abandon you. And of course, I shall finish whatever I begin." With that, he let the robe fall to the floor, and gathered Albel into his arms.

**Author's Note:** Ha. You get to wait for your yaoi. Oh, and... as Pyroclastic Flow pointed out, these updates are pretty fast. I usually update maybe once a month, if that... you can tell how well I care for my fics by how frequently I update. And, also as Pyro-Flow pointed out, the rating of this fic might go up soon.

_P.S._: I leave it up to you to decide what Folstar looks like. I personally think he looks a bit similar to Romero, but that's just me...


	4. Obey Thy Master

**Author's Note:** Lookit all the reviews! -basks- ...Oh, and I'm back to school (I've been sick), so the updates will be a bit slower now... not because I'm getting lazy, but because I'm busy with school stuff...

_Faris (Chapter Two)_: Thank you! You're not the only one who never thought of it before; trust me - it hit me like a ten-ton bucket of bricks the last time I was playing SO3. I just thought, out of nowhere... "Holy _crap_, they'd make a great pairing!"  
_Iconoclastic Orthodoxy (Chapter Two)_: First of all, I really hope I spelled that right. O-o; Second, thank you for the offer -I might just take you up on that, possibly.  
_Raven the Dark Angel (Chapter 2-3)_: Who, me? An Anne Rice fan? No. Not at all. That's certainly not the reason why my bookshelf is full of her work... or why I aspire to be like her... of course not... -shifty eyes-Anyway... what was I saying again? Oh, right... um... yay, another RomeroxAlbel fan! I'll infect the world (the world being And Folstar is the briefly-mentioned God of Death. He has a four-line entry in the Dictionary. -.-; Well, guess I can't complain... Romero doesn't get _anything..._ oh, and... Albel has plans, don't worry. He's devious. As you'll see in just a few moments.  
_Gemelli_: Yay! Gemelli! -glomp- Yes, this _is_ a lovely pairing. When was the last time my updates came within two days of each other? You would know... my very _first _loyal reviewer. -hug-  
_Pyrocrastic Flow_: Folstar? Hell, for this fic, I'm willing to bring in Apris. ...Which isn't to say I will. Or won't. You never know; I rarely have a plan for anything... this is one of those fics I _do_ have a general storyline for, though, fortunately. -sweatdrop- And by the way, I love long reviews!  
_Chibi Usagi1_: You find Romero in two places - in Albel's ending, and in the Urssa Cave Temple (where he fights alongside Albel) if you choose not to take Albel in your party (I have yet to see this, obviously). I have a couple of screencaps, if you're interested. Or, you could just track me down on MSN and ask to see my Romero Display Picture, that works, too. -nods happily-  
_Psychodog_: It's the guilt trip... OF DOOOOOOOM! -lightning explodes in the background with a fierce crack, accompanied by organ music- ...What? You were thinking it, too. -cough- This story _is_ like a carcrash. Only, without the car. Or the crash. But it's still got blood, screams, loud noises, a little metal, and one question - "What the heck happened here?"

**Warnings:** shounen-ai, yaoi, a rather painful retribution on Albel's behalf

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Four: Obey Thy Master

---

"Heh... you seem a bit feisty," Romero murmured, kissing Albel again. Albel's tongue explored his mouth curiously... then, the swordsman pulled back a bit, touching Romero's lips with his good hand. Amused, the demon opened his mouth a bit, allowing the searching fingers to slip inside. Albel's fingers ran along his teeth, focusing on the eye teeth. He frowned.

"...Didn't you have fangs?" he puzzled. The demon smiled, pulling the hand out of his mouth. He brushed the man's hair away from his neck, looking calmly at the small puncture wounds.

"You enjoyed it, hmm...?" Romero purred seductively, setting the man in his lap. He pressed his forehead against Albel's neck. "You're not like other mortals, Albel." The swordsman seemed pleased with the compliment, running his clawed fingers down Romero's back. The demon winced mentally - he could feel the skin break and reseal itself, stinging harshly as it did so. Immortality and invincibilty had never been without pain...

"Of course I'm not like anyone else," Albel said haughtily. "I _can't_ be. How many others have you taken?" He was referring, of course, to the number of fallen mortals he had taken for himself, without allowing Folstar to have them first. That was the usual procedure - Folstar or Romero severed the Soul Thread, then Folstar would carefully pick and choose between the dead... those who were worthy of it moved on to Oblivion, those who had been sinners in their lives remained with him, those who fit neither profile became Romero's servants.

But these servants were mutilated before they were sent to him; they were mute, blind, deaf, or otherwise incapable of communication - and as such, they could not possibly be worthwhile companions. Albel was the first real company Romero had seen in many centuries now...

The realization swept over him, acerbic and savage. He pulled the man closer, savoring the feeling of Albel's skin against his_. Centuries. _The warm, soft skin was an all new experience; with his face against Albel's neck, he could feel the blood coursing through the veins. _Centuries _since he'd last been this close to _anyone_, let alone a mortal... He could feel the lungs expanding and contracting, and the air passing from the lips... it coursed over his ear as Albel's teeth nibbled on his earlobe. The swordsman's breath was warm, Romero noticed, with a small, satisfied smile.

"...Are you falling asleep, your majesty?" Albel asked, delivering his title mockingly. He traced the tattoos on Romero's chest with one finger, delighting in the way the demon arched his back under his fingertips. Romero responded with a soft, barely audible sigh, squeezing him closer. Smirking, Albel began running his clawed fingers lightly and harmlessly through Romero's gleaming hair. The demon was as vulnerable as he'd ever be, lying in his arms like a child...

Albel closed his eyes, humming as softly and sweetly as he could manage. His hand passed slowly through the white hair, grazing gently over the demon's scalp. His other hand, the good hand, lovingly massaged his neck, shoulders, and back. He could feel long eyelashes brushing against his neck, butterfly wings... the King of the Dead was so _trusting_... he was murmuring something softly now, kissing his collarbone. Remarkably sweet, this Romero, for a servant of the gods... almost like an infant. Albel's hand paused on the back of the demon's neck, stroking the pale skin with one finger. "You claim me, then, your majesty? Master?" A low, breathy reply came as an answer, presumably in the affirmative. "...And maybe I can claim you, then?" Another little sound. This one was almost hesitant.

"Quiet, then, Master, and let me... _claim_... you."

He dug his claws into Romero's skull with as much force as he could summon up. The demon gasped soundlessly. His body tensed... his hands clutched Albel's sides almost painfully... he bit into Albel's neck... he squeezed Albel's body against him so tightly Albel thought his spine would break... and then... he went limp with one final, shuddering breath. Albel laughed cruelly, withdrawing his fatal hand from Romero's head. He wasn't particularly surprised that they weren't bloody at all, nor was he shocked to see the wound heal itself. But what he was _sure_ of was that Romero, King of the Dead, had joined his subjects.

Albel let the King's body lie on him for a mere second before lying him down (almost) gently to the bed, then sliding away to find some suitable clothing for himself. After all... Romero wouldn't be needing it anymore. Best not to let it go to waste. After sorting through various outfits, he finally found one that fit him (almost) perfectly - a bit of a tight fit, but then again... He glanced over at the remains of his previous outfit. He could hardly complain about the changes in his ensemble. He dressed quickly, turning to examine his reflection in a conveniently-placed full-length mirror. Hm. Who knew he could look so good in black? Purple had always been his color of choice... ah, well, you learned something new every day. Albel glanced down at his hair. Wrapping it back up would take such a long time, and he just didn't have the patience for it. He chose instead to simply tie it back, using one of his wrappings. Satisfied, he turned his attentions back to Romero's body.

His flaming eyes were still open halfway... groaning, Albel reached over to close them. His hand lingered for a moment on the side of Romero's face.

"...Well," he muttered (almost) wistfully, "I'll give you this much - you sure know how to leave a beautiful corpse-"

"Why, thank you." All at once, the eyes flew back open, and Romero's hand whipped up and caught Albel's wrist before he could pull away. "You're quite the tease, Albel Nox," Romero said coldly, sitting up. "You dare to make an attempt on my life at such a time? Bold of you... bold, but foolish. As are most of the things you do."

Albel stared, dumbfounded, at the demon. But-! Just a moment ago! He was...! His eyes were huge, almost comical, as he attempted to wrench his hand away from the demon's grip. "D-_Damn_ you!" he screamed, struggling against the deathgrip. Romero merely smiled passionlessly, squeezing tighter.

"You," he said in a low, threatening voice, "Will _learn_," He yanked Albel onto the bed, "To _obey_," He flipped him to his stomach, and pinned him with a knee on his back. "_Me_!" He held Albel's wrists down, almost crushing them with the pressure of his grasp. "You are my _slave_, mortal, and you have no power over me. I own your body, soul, your very _being_! Don't think for a moment that I can't sense your thoughts! Don't dare to move against me - I can predict every move you make!"

The swordsman was paralyzed beneath Romero, unable to move, unable to think, unable to speak... he felt like a wild animal being broken for domestication. He couldn't feel anything.

"...But not to worry..." Romero said gently, after a moment. "I forgive you. After all... you're only mortal..." He released Albel slowly, stroking the man's hair. He stood then, rolling Albel onto his back. "I like this outfit on you," he mused, his eyes slowly scanning the man's body. "It suits you."

The numbness was wearing away, leaving a burning rage and overwhelming hatred in its place. Albel sat up slowly and, with all his might, threw himself at Romero. "I'll _kill_ you, you damned maggot!" he yelled, lashing out with everything he had. It was an all-out temper tantrum, fueled with enough fury to surprise even the King of the Dead. Romero stagged away from the man, doing his best to block the blows. He was struck several times before he finally caught one of the man's hands - the claw, easily the deadlier of the two.

"Now, now, Albel..." he said soothingly, pushing the hyperventilating man back to the bed. Albel slumped wearily on the side of the bed, glaring viciously from under a fringe of dark hair. Romero studied him carefully. He smiled inwardly, reflecting on a memory of a similar time, from not so long ago... but that was a memory for a different day. "You'll learn, in time, who you serve." He whispered closely, smiling serenely. "And I think you may come to like me, after all."

Albel jerked away, throwing himself away from Romero. The demon watched, fascinated, as he buried himself under the covers he had torn only moments ago. He was breathing heavily, furiously, quivering with rage. Sighing, Romero climbed into the bed beside him, holding the man's cover-enclosed body.

"Albel," he whispered gently, "I don't mean to break you. I don't seek to control you."

Albel glared at him over his shoulder, but the true anger was gone from his eyes, leaving behind an innocent curiosity that, perhaps, Albel himself wasn't aware of.

"But if I'm expected to respect you, Albel, you have to respect me." Romero held Albel's face firmly with one hand, staring intently into his eyes. Slowly, stubbornly, the swordsman nodded.

**Author's Note:** And so ends the daily updates, my friends... I'd say from now on, expect an update about once a week, maybe twice. -nod- ...I don't have school on Monday, however... -evil grin-


	5. The Funeral

**Author's Note:** Wow, I'm up late tonight... O-O; 11:17 p.m... and I'm not tired at all...

_FoxFury:_ "Albel, you bitch." XD -dies laughing-

_Gemelli_: I was quite fond of Albel's "HOLY SHIT!" reaction, as well... and the temper tantrum... seemed appropriate, considering the situation. I doubt many of the people he's killed have ever come back to say "Hi, how ya doin'?"

_Pyroclastic Flow_: I was kidding about Apris, dear. -sweatdrop- And as for a life... yeah, I have one of those... at times. When I'm not online... (mutters: Whenever _that_ is...) ...and as you can see, even school doesn't slow me down! Good lord, I'm Superwriterwoman! -hurries to copyright this name-

**Warnings:** shounen-ai, Fayt (Yes, I figured you needed to be warned that Fayt was in this chapter. XD)

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Five: The Funeral

---

A cemetary spread out around him, gloomy and unkempt since the old caretaker had passed away, lined with rows and rows of tombstones. Some were cracked and faded, the names barely more than a shadow on their weathered faces. Once-majestic angel statues now stood as a forlorn tribute to those they protected, their wings cracked, their faces worn away by time. Weeds and grass grew wild around the graves; ivy crept up the stones. Mausoleums stood firmly, fighting against the inevitable corrosion. Some of the names were gone, some still stood out magnificently - recent burials, the buildings had been restored by mourning relatives. Toward the end of the row they were walking down was a lone, proud and steadfast, almost as if it had taken on the duty of protecting the rest of the dead. They were walking toward this grave.

"What is this place?" Albel asked warily, though he knew precisely where they were. The cemetary just outside of Airyglyph. "...Why here?" Romero looked at him somberly.

"A renowned Glyphian soldier was killed two days ago," he replied slowly, carefully. "They found his body in the dungeons of the castle, as well as the bodies of six of his subordinates." Albel's eyes widened in shock, but Romero took no notice. "The king wished for this soldier to be buried in the military cemetary in the courtyard of the castle. Count Woltar of Kirlsa, however, believed he would find rest easier here, in this very cemetary, where he can be laid to rest beside his father."

Albel's eyes fell on the grave they were approaching. His face was ashen as he studied the familiar name - Glou Nox. And beside it, a recently-dug grave, still unoccupied. Albel looked at the name. Sure enough, it read:

**ALBEL NOX  
**_Captain of the Black Brigade_

How impersonal and uncaring it looked. Was there anyone who missed him? Most likely not; he'd never done much for anyone else in his lifetime. It would be wrong to expect it from anyone else.

"...I'm dead," he muttered disdainfully.

"Of course you are," Romero replied, his face unreadable. "I killed you."

"And you brought me here to watch my own funeral."

Romero nodded. "I did. I thought you might enjoy it."

"Hmph." They walked past the graves in silence. It was the perfect day for such a dreary occasion... the wintry sky was grey, blotched with dark clouds. Snow fell languorously, sticking to the dying grass. A few flowers, left by the families of those who were buried, were wilting and browning atop the graves. The wind was cold and sharp, biting at Albel's skin. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Romero, on the other hand, seemed perfectly serene if not a bit saddened as he stood above Albel's grave.

"I can't say I regret it," he said after a moment. "I knew what I intended to do with you the moment I saw you."

Albel found he had nothing to say. He merely shrugged. The demon didn't seem to expect a response - he simply continued staring at the empty grave. The cold air whipped around them almost violently, but Romero didn't so much as bat an eyelash... Albel, on the other hand, moved to stand behind him. If Romero wasn't affected by the cold, well, dammit, _he_ could serve as a shield against the wind. In all the years Albel had lived in and around the city of Airyglyph, he had never grown used to the cold.

"I don't feel it," Romero said softly, glancing at him over his shoulder. "The cold, that is. I can't feel it." _Good for you_, Albel wanted to snap at him, but he succeeded only in chattering his teeth threateningly. Romero smiled, looking amused. Ah, right. The accursed demon could read his thoughts. Damn.

"If I had something to offer to keep you warm, I would." The King of the Dead kicked some loose dirt into the grave, shrugging. "But, alas, I don't. Forgive me."

"It'd be easier to forgive you if we could just get this _over with_," Albel snarled, teeth chattering as he spoke. "I'd _freeze_ to death if you hadn't already killed me." Romero laughed. The sound echoed out across the lonely graveyard, sending chills down Albel's spine. The demon's arm wrapped amiably around his shoulders. They stood together, two souls among a field of deceased beings...

"It's beginning," Romero whispered, pointing across the cemetary to a group of approaching men, carrying a casket. Albel looked up questioningly. "No," Romero answered the unspoken question. "They cannot see or hear us, unless we wish for them to do so."

Albel watched, mesmerized, as the men approached. He recognized many of them at a distance... King Airyglyph XIII, a handful of his soldiers (one of which had accompanied him back to Airyglyph shortly before he was charged with treason. Albel was relieved to see this one; he was a compassionate and thoughtful man who had joined the war to protect his home and family. Albel had believed he had been killed in the war), and Count Woltar were the easiest to pick out. But in the back were some equally familiar faces, many of which he had hoped never to see again after the dust settled...

Fayt Leingod, Nel Zelpher, Clair Lasbard, her father, Maria Traydor, and even the Queen of Aquaria herself had come to his funeral... he wondered for a moment whether he should feel flattered that they would go to all the trouble. Then he scowled. Why did they bother? Fayt and Maria didn't even belong on this _planet_, let alone at his _funeral_. And the Aquarians... what were _they_ doing here? He felt almost insulted that they would dare to show up, and he snarled from his invisible hiding place (which, oddly enough, was right out in the open). Glancing up, he realized that Romero had been staring at him... no doubt gauging his reaction thus far.

"...Why are they here?" he hissed sharply, jerking his head in their direction. "Who told them to come?"

Romero sighed, tucking his chin on Albel's shoulder. "They came of their own accord... they were your companions through incredible trials, you know. In their minds, you were their friend."

"Fools." Was Albel's only response. He returned to staring at the funeral procession, ignoring the demon behind him. Romero's hands slid almost eagerly to his waist, resting on his hips. His cool lips grazed against Albel's neck, gradually inching toward his earlobe, as Albel struggled to focus on what was being said.

"He never had the chance to become the soldier his father was," Woltar was saying, "But he was well on his way. Though he lacked discipline-" ("Bah!" Albel spat contemptuously.) "-he fought bravely and wisely in battle. Albel refused to fight those who couldn't pose a challenge to him. As you all know, he was once punished for this very action - some of you know firsthand what occured at this time." m nodded to Fayt and Nel. "Some of us may never know. What we do know is that the loss of Albel Nox is one that will surely effect the Black Brigade, as well as the entire Glyphian Army, for many years to come."

"I think I should cry or something." Albel said flatly, tipping his head sideways to give Romero access to more skin. Obviously, he wasn't moved in the slightest by Woltar's speech. If anything, he seemed bored with the whole affair. "And I swear, if that fool of a hero decides to make a speech, we're leaving whether you like it or not." Romero laughed softly in response, nipping at his neck.

The speeches continued. Some of the soldiers spoke of what a "fine leader" he was, and how "brave and loyal" he was in battle. Fayt - who, much to Albel's mortification, made a five-minute-long speech - told the world how he had helped in the battle against the Executioners and, ultimately, Luther. It was clear that many of those present had no idea what the boy was talking about... but they nodded and applauded politely and respectfully, all the same. The King had very little to say. Most of what he _did_ say revolved mostly around how Albel had taken control of the Crimson Scourge, and had thereby taken up his father's legacy and blah-blah-blah... it was all rather sentimental and dull.

And finally, Albel watched them lower the casket into the ground.

It hit him quite suddenly that that was _him_ in there, that was _his_ body, and he was really and truly dead. He would never speak to any of these people again; he would never have to see them again if he didn't wish to. He no longer served King Airyglyph XIII. He wasn't a slave to Airyglyph anymore. He didn't have to hate the Aquarians now. He was dead. He was _dead_! And now, he would become just another fallen warrior... just another name in the history books... just another loyal servant to the kingdom... and who would remember him as Albel Nox, rather than Albel the Wicked? Who would remember the eager, confident fifteen-year-old boy he had been before the Accession of the Flame ceremony; who would remember the hours he spent training after that day; who would remember the man he had become? Someday, no one who had ever known him would be alive... they would pass to Oblivion. And what would become of him...?

He stumbled, landing quite squarely in Romero's arms. He looked up at the demon, blinking in amazement. This was his master. _This_ was what he had to live for now, in his afterlife.

**Author's Note:** Chapter Five - check... stupid wouldn't let me sign in...


	6. Bathtime

**Author's Note:** What took so long? Editing. Taming this chapter so it suits theno-NC-17 rule. Goddammit.

_Thequietgenius_: Hey, Romero was the one who said "May I, in my great kindness, extend a special hand of charity to you and retrieve you as my own?" Sounds like a come-on, to me. XD He's less "affectionate," and more "I'm convincing you that I'm a nice guy," actually...

_Psychodog_: Wait, that was you? Dammit, he's been blaming that on me for all this time, and it was _you_! -quickly placatesthe angry Ghost!Albel-

_Pyroclastic Flow_: No, I really don't like Fayt, though I'm not sure why, myself...

_FoxFury_: Smarter than a slow website! More powerful than a pack of angry flamers! Able to post two chapters in 48 hours! It's - SUPERWRITERWOMAN! Maybe I'll get a cape, too? Billow, billow, _swish_!

_Iconoclastic Orthodoxy_: Well, considering what had just happened to him, he probably had a little mental meltdown . . . and then a temper tantrum . . . -sweatdrop- But hey, I do love constructive criticism. -nod- And yes, Chapter Five was a bit difficult to start . . . truth be told, I'm just working on filler now - it's too early in the story to bring in the 'major conflict' . . .

**Warnings:** yaoi (A PG-13 at best bath scene, which was my way of getting around putting Albel in bondage...)

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Six: Bathtime

---

Albel sat by the window, gazing out at . . . nothing. Romero's 'kingdom' seemed to be little more than a black abyss, caught forever in a horrific storm. Between the brilliant flashes of lightning, Albel could see a hundred or so of Romero's indistinguishable servants, milling around without any apparent purpose. Lost souls, all of them. What purpose _did_ they serve, exactly? The day Albel had fought Romero, these servants - he remembered with a sort of chill that these _particular_ servants were once his own men - had served as a small distraction, or perhaps Romero really _had_ believed Albel would prove to be no match for them . . .

He glanced over at the demon, who was staring right back at him.

"And what," Albel asked slowly, "Do you find so fascinating about me?"

Romero smirked, his pale lips turning up seductively. He didn't respond, other than to calmly and slowly lift a glass of red wine to Albel before taking a sip. The swordsman couldn't _help_ staring at him now. It was strange, really, how magnetic the simple movement was . . . the clear glass rested lightly on the demon's lips; the dark red liquid flowing into his mouth; the way the glass rested in his hand; the languorous motion of it all . . . Albel was almost mesmerized. The room was lit with a million candles, for some reason . . . and it didn't seem as though Romero had lit them. In fact, the room had been perfectly prepared from the moment they had returned from the funeral . . . and Romero seemed perfectly prepared, as well.

He had changed into his long black robe, and was lounging against the dark bedsheets rather like a model. The combined darkness of the robe and sheets contrasted against his pale skin, making it seem almost as if he were glowing . . . A perfect marble statue, fitted perfectly with burning eyes, silk lips, and fingernails of glass. His robe fell loosely around him, only just barely hanging off his shoulders. A thin slice of his white leg was visible through the robe, making its way to the inside of Romero's thigh. The demon's silvery hair spilled against the pillows, catching the candlelight. There was something statuesque about Romero's posture, and yet, he seemed so . . . soft. Albel found himself thinking in terms similar to those he had found to describe Romero at the window . . . strong and powerful, yet gentle and almost fragile, all at once. And the combined result was irresistible.

"...And _what_," Romero asked lightly, still smirking, "Do _you_ find so fascinating about _me_?" He rose from the bed, seeming to float upward rather than push off of it. Albel swallowed.

"You never answered my question, you fool," he said unconvincingly, doing his best not to stare. Romero shook his head.

"Albel Nox, you're a horrible liar . . . " he purred, walking slowly in his direction. Albel felt his mouth go dry as he came closer. His heart raced, pounding in his ears. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the demon's, afraid to let them wander anywhere else.

Romero casually let the wine glass slip from his hand, ignoring the way the glass shattered on the tiled floor. He stepped over the shards carefully, deliberately, never once removing his eyes from Albel's. This was the night, he decided. This was the night he would really let Albel know just who was the master . . . and who was the slave. He could see a fine, shimmering layer of sweat on the man's skin, and Albel was biting his lower lip in concentration . . . ah, yes. He was winning already. Albel was still a bit shaken from the excursion to his burial, of course - Romero planned to use this to his advantage. As he drew even closer, he could see Albel's eyes widening.

"Albel . . . " he whispered, his face only centimeters away from Albel's. " . . . Come with me."

As if he were a puppet on a string, the man obeyed. He had a rather dazed, dreamlike expression on his face, almost as if he had been hypnotized. ". . . Where are we going?"

"To take a little bath," Romero replied smoothly, opening a door and bowing Albel inside.

Albel gazed around in shock. Romero's bath was truly fit for a king. . . sculpted walls of black marble unfolded around a recessed tub. The tub itself seemed to be carved from the same solid block of marble, and was large enough to easily hold several men; deep enough to swim in. Several unusually bright candles floated on small dishes, lending an almost magical feel to the room. Aside from the floating candles, there was no light. A delicate but overpowering scent filled the room; drifting from either the candles, or the water itself.

"You like it," the demon murmured, his lips against Albel's ear. The man nodded, stunned. This was. . . incredible! Not even the king of Airyglyph had anything this grand. . .

Without waiting for Albel to join him, Romero removed his robe and waded into the tub. Albel was beginning to wonder when the demon had become _that damn_ appealing - he'd been attractive all along, of course, but only now was it becoming impossible to avert his eyes. Something about this room, something about the atmosphere here. . . whatever it was, he couldn't fight it. He had barely gotten all of his clothing off before he stepped into the warm, fragrant water.

Romero smiled indulgently, admiring Albel from his place in the corner of the tub. There was something about this sort of ambiance that just heightened the senses, and made everything seem so much more dramatic. Albel's long, perfectly shaped legs seemed to carry him weightlessly through the water; disregarding that the rest of him was exquisite, as well. Not even the metal claw of an arm was enough to detract from his otherwise perfect body. The demon licked his lips slowly, raising a hand to beckon the man to come closer. Albel did so without hesitation, his eyes glazed with lust - yes, this _was_ the perfect sort of aura; it was enough to bring any man to madness. And then again, Romero _did_ have that effect on most mortals.

Albel sat in Romero's lap, looking perfectly submissive. . . but looks could be deceiving. He leaned forward quickly, sealing the demon's lips in a firm and rather demanding kiss. Romero was more than happy to oblige. He bit Albel's tongue aggressively, sighing deeply at the taste of blood. As the warm, sharp liquid flowed into his mouth, he allowed his hand to rest on the side of the man's neck, feeling the blood there. Albel licked the demon's lips, then drew back and smiled at their new color.

"Red suits you," he commented, stroking Romero's hair with a wet hand. The demon nodded absently, lifting him just a bit. He kissed Albel's neck, sucking indelicately at the hollow of his throat. When he received very little reaction from the man - nothing more than an aroused gasp, he glared up at him, looking quite insulted. "It takes a bit of skill, you know," Albel shrugged. "I'm not easy to impress." He rested his hands on Romero's thighs. "Though... I have to say... you're doing a remarkable job..."

Albel grinned, pushing away. He swam backwards teasingly, slipping under the water. Romero smirked.

"You know perfectly well that you can't hide from me..." he said, smiling as he followed the man beneath the surface. Albel was waiting, kneeling on the bottom of the tub. His raven hair drifted around him, much like a lovely black backdrop for a mannequin. Smirking, Romero lifted him effortlessly. "You're playful, aren't you?" he asked hoarsely, seating the man on the edge of the tub and climbing up after him. He leaned over the man, frowning studiously. "I'm not in the mood to play."

"Neither am I," Albel said lightly, throwing one leg over Romero's shoulder.

**Author's Note:** (-violently kicking and screaming Ch. 4-Albel-Style, ranting about the NC-17 policy-) Makes this chapter veeeeeerry boring, it does... ... Let's take a vote.

**Which of these is going to happen first?**

1. LeFox will completely disregard the NC-17 policy, and therefore get banned from the site.

2. LeFox will go insane from keeping the story rated R at the very least. (Can I say "R" stands for "Romero?" I think _that_ rating would be manageable...)

3. LeFox will somehow get around the fact that her computer blocks AFFnet.

4. LeFox will have a mental meltdown and raid FFnetdestroying everyone and everything in sight.

5. The readers will get bored with the fic and leave.


	7. You Fight for Me

**Author's Note:** Chapter Six "LeFox's Issue" Illustration: http/img117.imageshack.us/img117/1386/scan0iy.jpg (Yes, I _do_ like my magically-floating laptop, why do you ask?) Anyway, I don't recall saying this, but I did lose the complete Chapter Six (due to general stupidity and ignorance on my part, forgive me). I may retype the whole thing later. Or sooner, while it's fresh in my mind.

_FoxFury: _-hissy fit continues- Stuuupid FFnet owners... they make my life a living hell... they always have... bastards... always meddling in my affairs... damn them... and their little _site_, too...  
_Vidae:_ 8. LeFox will do as Pyro suggested, and beat herself up for not thinking about it in the first place...  
_Pyroclastic Flow:_ Yeah, that occured to me about five seconds after I saved the file for the last time... -.-; "Well, LeFox, you dumbass, what did you empty out the AzaleaRose LJ account for _in the first place_!" Yeah. Well, from now on, my more explicit stuff will go there... and the cut version will stay here.  
_Psychodog_: -pats- Poor innocent mind... go to your happy place, find an Albel plushe, and snuggle with it for a while. It works for me. -grins- (Albel "plushie": Damn you to Daemonium, I am _not _a doll!)  
_Iconoclastic Orthodoxy_: I swear, there _is_ a plot behind this... I just have to build up to the point where I can actually use some of the key plot points... But anyway, I made use of the Grammatik feature on the last chapter! You, through your reviews, have done what no other human being alive could ever do - you've made me _proofread_. O-O!  
_Dark-pheonix1_: Dude. "Fancult." Best. Word. EVER. -gives dark-pheonix1 a cookie- **From now on, you are all members of the LeFox RomeroxAlbel Fancult.** And for those of you who were fans of mine beforehand (Gemelli and Fury), you are members of the **LeFox Fancult**. Yeah, yeah, feel special. ...Anyway. -cough-  
_Cassy_: Hey, it's you again! -happy- Being creative's what I'm _not_ good at, unfortunately... ;-;

**Warning:** shounen-ai, yaoi.

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Seven: You Fight for Me

---

Albel winced, wondering for a moment whether or not he would be able to stand. Or walk, for that matter. Romero had been... _frisky_, to say the least, and a tiny bit aggressive... oh, hell, _very_ aggressive. From holding him underwater for several minutes (as if he weren't choking _enough_ by the end of the act) to chaining him to the bed (enjoyable, but a bit painful at times), the demon certainly hadn't held anything back... and if he had... Albel didn't want to know about it.

Now... to more current matters.

He glanced up. Yes, he was still chained quite firmly to the bed, though the black chains seemed to be losing a bit of their shine - the magic was fading away. One good tug with his metal arm, and - yes, they broke easily, all but disintegrating at the slightest pressure. Even his other arm was strong enough to destroy them. They hadn't been designed to last for more than one night, after all... _"Why am I doing this? ...Would you believe me if I said I just..." The demon paused, searching for the right word. "..._Felt_ like it?"_ Albel shook his head, sitting up slowly. So, he'd been left on the (not exactly _clean_) bed, while Romero went off elsewhere... He frowned angrily. Bastard. Muttering to himself, he pushed himself off of the bed...

...And promptly fell to the floor. _Damn_ that Romero. He pulled himself back up, steadying himself against the wall. His head was spinning. He felt vaguely as if he'd had too much to drink, though it was probably from the blood loss...

_Romero tipped Albel's head back slowly, running his lips slowly and softly over the man's still-wet skin. "Just relax," he half-sang, pricking the human's fragile skin with his fangs. His toungue flicked out eagerly, lashing against the small stream of blood trickling from the tiny speck of an injury. To his surprise, Albel locked an arm around his shoulder, holding him closer. The man's hand entwined tightly in Romero's hair, moaning softly as the familiar dizziness overtook him..._

...It wasn't really the experience that was unpleasant. It was the way he felt now: unable to move, and unable to think. Where could Romero be...?

It occured to him that he had never been outside of Romero's room since his arrival. He had been there for several days now - though here, it seemed time passed much faster than in the mortal realm - and had never once set foot outside this room. A sudden curiosity overcame him, and he forced himself to move slowly toward the door, staggering as he went. There was a door on the far side of the room; an elaborate thing that never seemed to look the same way twice. Right now, it was covered in incredibly detailed roses, perfect right down to the thorns. They twisted and writhed across the black door, seeming to move in their motionlessness. Albel disregarded them completely, reaching for the golden doorknob... just beyond this door... beyond this room was...

...A hallway?

He couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed as he shut the door behind him. It was a long, dark hallway. There wasn't even a door at the other end. He sighed heavily, turning to go back inside the bedroom.

"Albel." He looked back sharply. A door _had_ appeared at the end of the hallway, and a reddish light emanated from it. The voice was unmistakably Romero's... and unmistakably a command. Albel walked down the hallway, scanning the blank walls impassively. What _was_ this place? Nothing made any sense... it seemed like the walls were panels, and could slide open, perhaps... were there doors behind all of them? And if so, why hide them? He shook his head. Totally useless.

He entered the room at the end of the hall, leaning in the doorway. Sure enough, Romero was kneeling before a fireplace. A closer inspection revealed that he was holding his fiery sword, gazing at it intently as if it were a human being. The fire seemed to embrace the metal, curling around it almost like a hand. The demon looked up at him, smiling.

"...You're awake late," he commented, peering up at him. "I would have expected you to be awake a long time ago." Albel scowled.

"I'm sore. I won't be able to walk straight for a week. I have a pint, tops, of blood left in my body. I feel like several tons of stone were just droped, repeatedly, on my skull. But yes, I feel _brilliant_! I hate you." The demon laughed, returning his attentions to the sword.

"Walk it off." He said simply, then rose. "I've been thinking about just what I can do with you... it wouldn't do to have you spend all eternity in bed, you know."

"Not that you'd _mind_ the arrangement."

"Certainly not, but it's not my opinion that matters, in the long run - it's my master's. It's Folstar's. And I doubt he cares to have you wasting away here. Then again, he won't care for my idea, either..." he seemd almost afraid for a moment. He hesitated, drawing the sword from the flames to study it for a moment. He balanced it across the palms of his hands. "Albel Nox, I want you to fight for me."

Albel stared. _What_? "You want me to..."

Romero seemed somewhat absent as he looked up. "You're strong, Albel," he said thoughtfully, returning the blade to the fire. "I don't want to put that strength to waste-"

"You keep _saying_ that," Albel pointed out. "But I haven't gotten to _prove_ any f it yet, apart from last night, if you count it."

"I do," Romero smirked. "Indeed, I do... beside the point. I would like you to help me serve Folstar. I want you to help me collect souls."

"You're insane!" Albel blinked. He couldn't understand his own outburst; he could certainly handle working alongside the King of the Dead. No trouble at all.

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry... it's short... and crappy... but I'm tired! I haven't gone to bed any earlier than 11:30 p.m. for the past week, and I'm really starting to run out of energy... T-T I'll have a better chapter for you next time, I promise... I'll even tell you what it's about! URSSA CAVE TEMPLE BATTLE! ...LeFox loves her battle scenes, so it might take a while for her to perfect it... and dammit, LeFox is speaking in third person again. LeFox is sorry.

(-cough_not_cough-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **OH MY GOD IT UPDATED. O-O I'm so, so, so, so sorry this took so long. I've been on hiatus for a variety of reasons, among which "I lost interest" ranks rather highly. Also included are "I'm lazy," "Jonathan didn't get around to playing the Urssa Cave Temple battle like he said he would," and "WordPerfect fucking sucks."

_FoxFury_: Yes, zee FanCult. And you are a part of it. In fact, I'm electing you to be Vice-President. Congrats.

_Pyroclastic Flow_: I'm working on it... slowly... as soon as I start getting a full night's sleep again, I'll really get back to work on it...

_IO_: See, that's easier to type. -cough- Filler? What filler? That certainly wasn't filler. I never write filler. Not me! No filler for me, nope, not me... ... ... oh, alright, _fine_. It was filler... -sweatdrop- And yes... I do so love Romero's door... -cough_fortheroses_cough-

_Lucrecia LeVrai_: ...I'm honestly not sure whether I should be insulted or flattered. I can understand about my FF9 fics, in retrospect, I'm incredibly unhappy with almost all of them. I did like the general story of Run to Me, however. If you were directly referring to that fic... _please_ don't let me know. Thank you. And Anne Rice is one of my personal favorite authors, regardless of the fact that she's apparently "cheesy and boring."

_Gemelli_: Banners? Have at it! XD

_Shadow_: Yes. Yes, you _do_ have to play this game sometime. GET IT. Now.

_Misha_: Of course I'm still interested in continuing it. I just... er... got sidetracked...?

_EG_: And here it is! Enjoy.

**Warning:** shounen-ai, "violence" (if that's whatcha wanna call it...)

**Pairing:** Romero and Albel

_Afterlife_

LeFox

Chapter Eight: Other Side

(**I'm sorry to say that this chapter will not contain the battle scene I previously promised. I decided that you lovely people had waited long enough for this goddamn chapter. Thus, the fight scene will most likely accompany the next chapter, unless something else comes up.**)

(**Something will probably come up.**)

---

The demon wore a muted sort of smirk as he stroked Albel's two-toned hair. Albel's face was set in a blankly serious glare, his eyes fixated on the gleaming sword in his hands. The Crimson Scourge, his father's legendary sword... in his hands once again. He ran his thumb lightly along the keen blade, drawing his hand back to observe the blood collecting on the surface of his skin. Romero, meanwhile, was wrapping the man's hair into its customary style, patiently and slowly winding each section of hair in the thin white bandaging. Albel glanced up at him over his shoulder, his red eyes fixing almost accusingly on the demon.

"...Where did you get this?" he asked slowly. "I'm sure it was sealed away again after I died. Don't tell me you robbed the castle." Romero arched an eyebrow.

"Not at all!" he replied. Sighing, Albel went back to the sword. "How could you possibly accuse me of that? I, in fact, robbed your grave." Albel's head whipped around, his eyes widened. He exclaimed, incredulously, "You did _what_!" The demon laughed. "Simple. The weapon was buried with you. I had to retrieve it if you were to be of any real use to me in battle. No other weapon would suffice."

_So you robbed my grave,_ Albel thought morosely. _Barely in the ground two days, and my grave is already desecrated_.

"No. It was rightfully yours from the moment you took it up." Romero's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "The sword has a mind of its own, as you know. As long as you can still wield it, it _belongs to you_, and no other. And dead though you may be, you are still the master of the Crimson Scourge."

Albel fell silent, holding the sword tightly. So he was the master of this blade, then? A majestic weapon of this caliber... was his for all eternity. Just like he belonged to Romero for all eternity. He had reconciled to this small fact. That he was Romero's servant, that he was bound to the King of the Dead forever, that he was a servant of a servant of the gods... he had come to terms with it. As of yet, he hadn't been treated like a slave - aside from a few _particular_ nights recently, anyhow.

"...What are we doing?" he asked somberly. Romero drew back thoughtfully.

"We are going to the Urssa Cave Temple. It's a hidden temple inside the Urssa Lava Caves, lost to mortals for centuries. Have you heard the rumors about the place...?" Albel shook his head. Romero continued. "Ah, of course you haven't... it is merely a legend among the gods. It is a sacred place, created by Apris to test the strength of mortals. It is said that they meet reflections of their closest companions there - in combat. It can only be reached when there is a rift in time and space."

"...Like when we defeated Luther," Albel breathed. The demon nodded, turning a sharp gaze in the man's direction.

"Exactly. That is exactly what opened the Temple in the first place. And... might you be able to guess just who has found the entrance to the Temple...?"

The swordsman blinked, nonplused. Who did he know who would wander blindly into a temple carved by the hands of Apris himself? Who would accept a challenge presented by the gods? Who would... oh.

"The _fool_," he groaned miserably.

"Indeed," Romero replied, arching his eyebrows with amusement. "I doubt he is even aware of where he is, or what fate is to befall him. For no mortal was ever intended to escape from the Temple alive."

Albel sighed, resting his chin on his fist. "So we're going there to kill him and his companions."

"No." Albel looked up at Romero, surprised. "We're _not_ going there to kill him. He is going to kill himself. You see... one of the Temple's secrets is its ability to mirror those who venture within. Fayt Leingod is going to kill himself... or, rather, his reflection is going to kill him. Do you understand?" Albel shook his head. Romero laughed softly, stroking his hair again. "Not to worry, Albel. You'll see soon enough. And if we stop him before he reaches that point in his journey, then so be it. But it is not our purpose. Our purpose is simply to weaken him."

—

The pool of still water seemed to glow from within, casting an eery glow across the demon's pale face. The hair on the back of Albel's neck rose, and a shiver ran down his back. There was a feeling that something was about to happen; a feeling that the entire world was waiting for something... a feeling which seemed to radiate from this small pool. Or perhaps it was the icy air of this tiny cavern? Albel looked around. Water dripped from the cavern walls, collecting in small dips created by time. Small, harsh breezes made their way into the cavern by way of a tiny opening in one of the walls. And Romero, standing perfectly motionless and expressionless, seemed once again to be a statue. Then, he spoke.

"I have to warn you," he began softly. "You will not appear on the other side as you are now. You will be a... an inverted version of yourself. You're going to appear as a similar, yet completely different, person."

"And you?"

"I am a servant of the gods, Albel. You will only notice a few small changes in my appearance... and then again... perhaps you won't." With that, he donned the mask. Albel felt a jolt at how quickly the demon's face wiped itself of any and all emotion, leaving behind the same cold visage he had seen on their first encounter. As if preparing and hardening for the upcoming conflict, the translucent light around his head solidified into two viciously sharpened horns. His eyes took on an evil, malicious glint.

"...Are you ready, then?" he asked. Albel shrugged. "Hm. Show a bit of enthusiasm, won't you?" Romero shoved him lightly, laughing humorlessly. "You finally get to trounce that boy to death. I know you're looking forward to it."

"I never said I wasn't," Albel protested. Romero arched an eyebrow.

"You could have fooled me. I'm beginning to wonder if all of this is boring you... it's not something you _have _to do, you realize..."

The swordsman shrugged again, drumming his fingers absently on the hilt of the Crimson Scourge. "When does it begin?" The instant he spoke, the pool of water began... vibrating. Ripples coursed out from the center of the pool, casting rings of light up and down the damp walls. The demon's eyes flashed behind the mask.

"Now."

—

It was dark now, and yet the world around him seemed unnaturally bright. He felt heavy and weightless all at once. He was sweating and shivering. He was calm and anxious. He was caught somewhere between two worlds - the world of the living, and the world of the dead. Albel shuddered as he looked at his new surroundings, trying desperately to recall just _how_ he had arrived here.

He seemed to be suspended between two rings of light; one above and one below. He was very much alone now - Romero was nowhere to be seen. And at the same time, Albel could feel the demon's presence, as if he were somewhere nearby... perhaps even within himself.

And with _that_ mildly disturbing thought, Albel found himself standing once again in a room not unlike the previous one. Just as Romero had warned, he noticed many physical changes in himself - as if he'd been sent through some sort of odd filter, and everything about his physical being had been reversed. He felt... paler? Perhaps "washed out" was the correct term.

He had reached the other side... the mortal world.

**Author's Note:** Bad way to end the chapter? Yes. But at least it _is _a chapter. Finally. And hopefully, I'll have a new one for you sometime within the next year or so. If not, feel free to hunt me down and brick me. ...I'm kidding. o-o Don't actually, y'know, hurt me. ...Please.


End file.
